


the problem with love is...

by Authoress



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: 5+1 trope, M/M, University age, akiteru features just to tag team his brother, beach scene ofc, beefy yams and beanpole tsukki, he just has a yamaguchi crisis, sassy yams, some relatively tame sex at the end, tsukishima doesn't have a gay crisis, tsukki do u even lift??
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-05-25 19:31:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6207634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Authoress/pseuds/Authoress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>5 Times Yamaguchi Called Tsukishima An Idiot And The 1 Time He Called Him A Really Fucking Big Idiot</p>
<p>(or, Yamaguchi gets hella swole and Tsukishima has a whole list of problems with it.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	the problem with love is...

**Author's Note:**

> i suddenly wanted to write tsukkiyama. that's all there is to it.
> 
> so, i will point out that this yamaguchi is based on my future headcanons. we've already seen yamaguchi start to come out of his shell and take control of his life instead of being tsukishima's 'sidekick' as he was at the start of haikyuu. i headcanon him as getting super built, self-confident, sassy, and (as an aesthetic bonus) with a ponytail and piercings. if y'all have seen [vika's future haikyuu art](http://viria.tumblr.com/post/107429234353/im-half-dead-because-ive-been-literally-drawing), that's essentially what i'm getting at.

 

It was Akiteru’s idea, so technically everything that followed was his fault.

The problem with Akiteru was that he cared too damn much about Tsukishima. Tsukishima didn’t care if he should join a club at university (he was already on the intramural volleyball team), or if he needed to make new friends (Yamaguchi lived just down the hall), or if—and he quotes—‘his arms are getting flabby.’ They won nationals for Christ’s sake, did anyone really expect Tsukishima to do anything more after _that_?

“That’s not very captain-ly of you to say,” Yamaguchi says, tossing a grin back at Tsukishima. He swipes into the gym and steps through the gate. “Akiteru-kun spent his own hard-earned money on this membership because he loves you and wants you to have the best time at college ever.”

“How can you say that when he bought _you_ a membership, too?” Tsukishima points out raising an eyebrow and swiping in as well.

“Easy.” Yamaguchi ducks around some beefcake sweating all over the weights. “He knew you would never come here on your own because you’re a big baby, so he bought me one to act as support.”

“I am _not_ a baby,” Tsukishima grumbles, screwing up his face as he passes the guy. “And maybe it’s because he knows you’re scrawny, too.”

Yamaguchi laughs and shrugs. “Yeah, you’re probably right. But let’s make the most of it, okay? College girls can’t resist the big guns.” He flexes weakly and Tsukishima rolls his eyes.

“We’re already on the volleyball team, isn’t that enough?” Tsukishima mutters under his breath. “Gyms are sweaty and smelly and repulsive. Every single machine is a petri dish of bacteria due to people’s carelessness.” He makes eye contact with someone across the room and holds it, staring down the other patron coolly. When the other guy doesn’t budge either, Yamaguchi rolls his eyes and shoves Tsukishima towards the lockers, mouthing ‘okaaaay.’

“Yes Mr. Big Alpha Male, you’re very scary and everyone in this gym is _very_ afraid of you,” Yamaguchi says. “Put your stuff in a locker.”

“There’s _no way_ I’m doing that.”

“Don’t be an idiot, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi sighs in frustration. “Just put your shit in there and we can go run on the treadmills. That’s relatively hands-free.”

Tsukishima gives him an incredulous look. “Did you just call me an idiot?”

“Only because you were being an idiot,” Yamaguchi says, raising an eyebrow. Tsukishima raises both his eyebrows. They stare each other down for a long moment before Yamaguchi comes up with an idea. “I’ve got it!” he says. “Let’s make a bet as to which of us lasts the longest.”

“You’re on,” Tsukishima says, lifting his chin to emphasize the couple inches he had on Yamaguchi.

 

\--------------------

 

Predictably, Yamaguchi wins. Less predictably, he takes to working out like a fish to water.

There’s so much Yamaguchi didn’t know about his body. Volleyball got him into good shape, but he had been off for a few months and high school level sports teams could only do so much. There were so many muscles he could strengthen with so many different workouts. There were so many muscles that could ache days after a workout and so many different ways to limp to class.

Tsukishima worried about his health, just a little bit.

But the thing about working out was that Yamaguchi could _feel_ himself getting stronger. Every day, he could run just a little longer, lift just a little more weight, do just a few more squats. The aching got shorter and eventually went away. Yamaguchi took to running outside, even off campus. He hated to say it, but he was…hooked.

“What are these?” Tsukishima asks, horrified.

Yamaguchi eyes the handful of brochures Tsukishima is waving in his face in the middle of a push-up. “What about them?” he asks.

“You joined the cross-country team _and_ the weightlifting team,” Tsukishima says.

“Not the _teams_ ,” Yamaguchi sighs. “Just the clubs. I’m not good enough to get on the teams yet.”

“Yet? What about volleyball?” Tsukishima asks.

A grin spreads slowly across Yamaguchi’s face. “Are you afraid I’m going to abandon you?”

Tsukishima scowls. “No.”

“You don’t need to worry,” Yamaguchi assures him. “I still love volleyball the most. And now I’ll be even better.”

“That gym membership went to your head,” Tsukishima grumbles.

The worst part was that he actually _did_ get better at volleyball, and the semester wasn’t even halfway over. Muscle definition started to appear on his arms and calves, even more than had when they played with Karasuno. It was downright disturbing.

Tsukishima didn’t get it. Sure, he could admit the endorphins were great when he worked hard enough to reach that point, but getting there _sucked_. Yamaguchi talked on and on about how he was addicted to runner’s high and the feeling of his muscles pumping under his skin, but all Tsukishima could think about was the feeling of sweat and the pounding of his heart as it tried to catch up to his level of physical exercise. The thought itself was exhausting.

But Yamaguchi seemed to genuinely love it. There was a bounce in his step when he walked to the gym, even if he had to drag himself back to the dorm. Exhaustion energized him. Pain brought him pleasure. Tsukishima sips at his milk moodily, resting his head on crossed arms and glaring at Yamaguchi seated next to him at the picnic table. There was no use lying to himself—Tsukishima was confused by Yamaguchi.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Yamaguchi asks. He had just waved to a few girls Tsukishima didn’t know, like _he_ knew them. What had happened to the Yamaguchi that stuttered and blushed in front of girls?

“Are you really Yamaguchi Tadashi?” Tsukishima mutters.

“What does that _mean_?” Yamaguchi asks, throwing his hands in the air. He presses his cheek against the table, looking Tsukishima in the eyes. “What’s wrong, Tsukki?”

What _was_ wrong? His best friend starts working out and Tsukishima feels like he doesn’t even know him anymore? Who _felt_ like that, ever? Tsukishima was off-balance and not in control, and somehow, it was all Yamaguchi’s fault. Perhaps it was because Yamaguchi had been a constant in Tsukishima’s life, reliable and unchanging. Maybe it was because he had defended Yamaguchi once in their youth.

“You’re really weird,” Tsukishima says, diverting the conversation.

“Are you still upset that I’ve been working out?” Yamaguchi asks, rolling his eyes. “You can come with me, you know. You’re still too skinny for your own good.”

“And get sweaty and disgusting more than once a day? No way,” Tsukishima says. But somehow, just the offering of an invitation was able to quell the uneasiness stirring in his stomach.


End file.
